After Auguste's death, the ex-Beau Arthur had reflected thus:

"I must wait until a few weeks have passed; it wouldn't be decent for my lovelorn Gustave to return at once and throw himself at the pretty widow's feet; non est hic locus; it isn't always best to take active steps; in order that they may succeed, they must be taken at the opportune moment. I still have some dÉbris of the five hundred francs my dear friend loaned me, and I have the change of the hundred-franc note which poor MonlÉard left me to pay for the breakfast, which cost only seventeen francs fifty. With that, and with a passably pretty switch, and a passably decent costume, one can enjoy this paltry life of ours to some slight extent. Gad! at this moment I should be very glad to meet those two grisettes whom I saw one day at an omnibus office at Porte Saint-Martin. Parbleu! the same day I made the acquaintance of Gustave. They were both pretty—one was a brunette, the other a blonde—one plump and one thin—a morsel for an attorney; and, judging from appearances, one bright and one stupid. Their names were Laurette and Lucie, and they were feather-girls on Rue Saint-Denis. I have never met them since. Par la sambleu! it's my fault, I'm a jackass! I had only to go into all the feather-shops on Rue Saint-Denis—to tell the truth, I haven't always been in a position to play the gallant with young ladies—to invite them to the play and to supper, and I can't do anything less than that by way of renewing the acquaintance. But, now that I'm in funds, what prevents me from looking them up? That idea smiles upon me. It reminds me of happy days.—My mind is made up: before I begin my search for Gustave, I will go in quest of Laurette and Lucie; this very evening, after dinner, I will try my hand at hunting the feather-girls."

Cherami dined, and acquitted himself of the task like one who had not breakfasted twice. Then, his head being a little heated by the fumes of a bottle of old Pommard, he betook himself to Rue Saint-Denis, looking to right and left in quest of feather-shops. He did not go far without discovering one. He opened the door and entered with a haughty air, scrutinizing all the young women in the establishment.

The forewoman eyed the individual who had struck an attitude À la Spartacus in the centre of the shop, where he stared at one after another without speaking, and said to him:

"Will monsieur kindly tell us what he would like?"

Cherami, having taken time enough to examine all the shopgirls, of whom there were ten or twelve, replied in a drawling tone:

"A thousand pardons, madame; I did come in here in search of something; there is no doubt of that; but I don't see what I want; no, I don't see it."

"If monsieur will tell me what he desires, I can tell him at once whether he will find it here."

"Very good, madame; I am looking for children's caps—for a little boy of five."

All the girls in the shop laughed aloud; but the forewoman assumed a sour expression as she rejoined:

"Did monsieur take this for a hat-shop?"

"Have I made a mistake? Oh! I beg your pardon; I am distressed; it was all these feathers that misled me; they put so many feathers on hats nowadays. Accept my apologies, madame; your humble servant."

Having executed a graceful bow, Cherami left the shop, saying to himself:

"That's one; I did that very well; it wasn't a bit bad. My two young friends are not there. Let's try another."

A little farther on, he saw another establishment for the sale of flowers and feathers. He entered as before, and struck the same attitude.

"We are waiting for monsieur to say what he wants," said an old woman.

"Mon Dieu! madame," said Cherami, examining the girls, of whom there were not so many as in the first shop, "I would like—I wanted a coat, either blue or black, but made in the latest style, and, above all things, becoming to me. I don't care for the price, but I am particular about being well dressed."

"You are not in a tailor's shop, monsieur!" retorted the old woman superciliously, while the workgirls exchanged glances and laughed till they cried.

But the old woman bade them be silent, and added:

"Apparently you didn't look to see what we keep here, monsieur?"

"What! am I not in a shop of outfitters for both sexes?"

"No, monsieur; we sell only flowers and feathers."

"Oh! a thousand pardons, madame; but your shop has a sort of resemblance to the Magasin du ProphÈte. It isn't so brightly lighted, I agree; but these flowers, these wreaths—it's all so pretty! and, in Paris, outfitters' shops look like stage decorations.—Accept my apologies, madame."

"Two!" said Cherami, when he was in the street once more. "My pretty grisettes are not there either. Patience! we shall find them at last. Ah! I see another feather-shop; they fairly swarm in this street. Forward!"

In the third shop, Cherami asked for shirts, while passing in review the workgirls and apprentices, without finding those whom he sought. He succeeded, as before, in making the young women laugh and in obtaining a tart response from the mistress of the place.

In the fourth shop, after staring about for some time, Cherami exclaimed:

"I don't see any; this is very strange; I don't see any, and yet I was certain that I saw several in the window."

"Will monsieur kindly tell us what he desires?" said the forewoman.

"I want to buy a Bayonne ham, madame; the best you have."

This time the laughter was general, and the mistress shared the merriment of her workgirls; so that Cherami had an opportunity to examine them at his leisure. At last, when the hilarity had subsided somewhat, the forewoman, still smiling, said to him:

"We don't sell hams here, monsieur; pray, what sort of a place did you take this for?"

"Oh! a thousand pardons, madame; isn't this a provision shop?"

"No, monsieur; it's a flower and feather shop."

"Ah! I am a miserable wretch! But let me tell you what misled me: it was the birds that I saw in the window. I said to myself: 'That's game; therefore, they sell provisions.'"

"Those are birds-of-paradise that you saw, monsieur; they're used to put on ladies' hats, but not to eat."

"Birds-of-paradise! Pardon me, but they are in paradise, in very truth, since they live under the same roof with such charming ladies! I renew my apologies, and beg you to accept my respects."

Cherami left the fourth shop, saying to himself:

"They are not there either; I shan't have my cue this evening. This is enough for to-day; but I am well pleased with the effect I produced in that last place: they all laughed, even the mistress herself laughed like a madwoman! It was very amusing to see the gayety on all those female faces—and all because I asked for a ham! After all, a ham was more absurd than a coat, shirts, or children's caps! Well, to-morrow I must ask for something even more absurd. Oh! I shall think up something; I'm never at a loss. Meanwhile, let's go and have a game of pool at the usual place. When my pocket is well lined, I play superbly, I handle my cue magnificently. I am sure of winning, according to the proverb: 'Water keeps flowing to the river.'"

The next day, after dinner, Cherami returned to Rue Saint-Denis, saying to himself:

"I know how far I went yesterday, and where I must begin to-day. I have something very amusing to ask for. How I'll make them laugh! Oh! I propose that not even the forewomen shall succeed in keeping a serious face. They will fancy they're at the Palais-Royal when Grassot plays La Garde-Malade, or Le Vieux Loup de Mer."

But, since the preceding night, certain things had happened in Rue Saint-Denis which our grisette-hunter could not divine.

In a quarter so wholly given over to business, there are brokers and under-clerks who go about almost every morning inquiring as to the course of prices, articles most in demand, etc.; this is commonly called faire la place. Now, when one of these brokers entered a certain feather-shop, the girls asked him laughingly:

"Have you brought us some children's caps? we had a call for some last night."

"Caps? you are joking!"

"No, indeed!"

And thereupon they told him about their customer of the night before. The story made the broker laugh, and that was the end of it. But at another shop they told him about a man who had wanted to buy a coat.

"This is a strange thing!" he exclaimed; "over yonder, somebody asked for a child's cap. Can it be the same man?"

At that, the proprietor's interest was aroused.

"I must go to see my confrÈres, and find out whether they also saw this person."

"That is right," said the broker; "we must go to the bottom of this; for it seems to me as if someone had made up his mind to play a practical joke on you. I'll go with you."

They soon learned that Cherami had visited four shops; but they also satisfied themselves that he had been to no more. The dealers in feathers took counsel together, and those who had not received a call from the jocose gentleman said to one another:

"Perhaps the fellow will begin again to-morrow night; we must prepare to give him a warm reception."

The tradesmen, at whose establishments he had asked for caps, a coat, shirts, and a ham, said to their confrÈres:

"Allow us to come to your shops to-night and wait for this man, so that we can have our share in the reception you propose to give him."

Everything being agreed upon, in the evening they divided up into groups and waited impatiently for the party of the night before to appear.

Our hunter of feather-makers entered Rue Saint-Denis, far from suspecting all that had been plotted against him; he waved his switch about, looked to right and left, then said to himself:

"I went in there—and there. I recognize the shops perfectly. Ah! there's my number three. There's only one more—the fourth—there it is; yes, I recognize the forewoman, who had a very amiable expression, laughing as she did with all the rest of them. Now, I will go into the next one I see, and we'll have a little laugh. Oh! the question I am going to ask will be so laughable! the girls will fairly howl. I won't even answer for it that I can keep a serious face myself.—Ah! there's a feather-shop. A fine place—forward!"

Cherami made but one bound to the shop he had discovered; he entered, struck a graceful attitude, and ogled the workgirls, not noticing several young men who had stepped behind the doors when he entered.

The forewoman looked at him in a strange way, but asked him, none the less, in a polite tone, what he wanted.

Cherami replied, with a winning smile:

"What do I want? Mon Dieu! fair lady, a very simple thing. I would like—I like to think that you keep them—I would like a broomstick."

"Certainly we keep them, monsieur," the forewoman instantly answered. "How lucky! we have just laid in a stock. You couldn't go to a better place."

While Cherami listened in utter amazement to this reply, which he was very far from expecting, the young men, who had, as it happened, provided themselves with broomsticks, came forth from their hiding-place and fell upon him at close quarters, crying:

"Ah! you want broomsticks, do you? well! you shall have 'em!—to teach you to go into shops as you did last night, to make sport of honest tradesmen! Take that, and that! how do you like broomsticks?"

Cherami, who was unprepared for this attack, tried to parry the blows with his switch, but the switch was no match for the weapons of his opponents; so he thought of nothing but making his escape.

"I will wait for you in the street, messieurs," he cried; "I challenge you all, one at a time."

But they made no reply; they simply pushed him into the street and closed the door on him. Somewhat ashamed of the result of his jest, our friend, who had received a too well-aimed blow from a broomstick over his left eye, walked away, holding his handkerchief to the wound, and saying to himself:

"What a damnable idea that was of mine, to ask for a broomstick! This time, I have my cue!"